


like when you said you felt so happy you could die

by girljustdied



Category: Skins (UK)
Genre: F/M, Self-Harm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-17
Updated: 2012-04-17
Packaged: 2019-10-08 21:58:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 894
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17394437
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/girljustdied/pseuds/girljustdied
Summary: they're heading towards something fast.





	like when you said you felt so happy you could die

Girl’s got two pills in her palm. Little sad faces on ‘em.

“Come on, Cook. Don’t be a pussy.”

S’not about that. Just taking his time. Prods at the capsules with a fingertip, turns one over to find like a happy face on the other side, eyes little x’s. Makes him snicker and finally press his lips to her lifeline. Her skin is salty, a little sour with dirt, and she exhales shakily like it tickles. They both swallow the pills dry.

Effy decides that she wants a tattoo, so he takes her to his favorite place. Figures if she’s anywhere near as numb as he is, girl won’t even feel a thing. Won’t let him in the room with her, though, so he smokes a spliff outside and waits. Eyes the white gauze on the back of her shoulder peeking out of her loose tank with probably a little too much curiosity after.

“I bet it’s killing you.” She blows smoke rings into the air that he promptly jabs a finger through. 

Fuck it. He’ll see it eventually. Probably be the one to peel it off. “Sure. Ache in my gut, all that rot.”

Passing the cigarette over to him, “It’s a snake eating its own tail.”

“Profound.”

“My brother told me about something like it once.”

Cook’s brother was barely able to wipe his arse on his own when Cook’s mum kicked him out.

Back at her flat, Cook jaws on a bit to keep from touching the bit of red bleeding through the small bandage, “Should’ve gotten a moon and stars. Something like, pretty.”

And apart. Separate.

“I don’t feel very pretty.”

Makes him guffaw loud and purposeful, eyes watering with the effort.

“What the fuck?” She leans forward and puts both hands onto his gut—presses in with all her slight weight until the laugh turns into a groan. “I’m being honest with you.”  
  
“You’re fuckin’ hilarious,” he answers when she eases up and leans back into the couch.

Then it’s all coy smirks and her hand down his pants and the bass from the stereo making his ears throb with what little blood’s left in his bonce. Her kisses are sloppy and sharp and the stairs to her room are somewhat unconquerable in the state they’re in.

Well. He don’t mind a little exhibitionism. Beides, they barely even have to lose any clothes. All he’s got to do is tug her knickers aside to toy with her cunt.

“What’re you waiting for?” she twists and arches and grinds up against his cock.

Sucking her wetness off his fingers: “Just stopping and smelling the roses, princess.”

Her eyes go a little dead at that, glassy. Her nails dig into any skin that she can push away his clothes to touch. “Don’t stop.”

Don’t need to tell him twice. He thrusts inside of her, holds her face with both hands as they rock together. “Eff—”

“Harder, fuck’s sake—” she bucks up underneath him.

“Easy, girl, easy.”

“No,” she’s present again, wild eyes boring into the back of his skull. “Hard.”

He wonders if he’s ever told her that whole fit and mysterious thing can come off a bit Cro-Magnon. Probably not the time.

“Tell me something,” he finds himself murmuring into her skin.

She’s warming up now, breath wet and hot. “Tell you what?” 

“Dunno. Something.”

Her laughter’s still echoing in his head when he wakes up to the sound of a door closing upstairs. He could go—any other girl and he’d want to go. Fuck, she’s the same, it wouldn’t even be the end if he did.

Cook does not take the stairs two at a time. His steps are steady, and measured, and heavy. Breathe in and out, yeah. But something feels wrong with the air. Too thin, insubstantial.

The door to the toilet is the only one that’s closed, so he raps against it lightly.

“Eff?”

There’s no answer for so long that he figures maybe he misheard. Checks her room, checks her mum’s. Nothing and no one. Tries to toilet again.

“Tell me to fuck off and I’ll gladly. C’mon, Eff.”

When he turns the doorknob, it’s unlocked, so finally he just cracks it open. Finds Effy with a bare blade pressed lightly to her wrist. Tiny drops of blood on the sink.

She doesn’t respond to his appearance behind her in the reflection, or to his voice sorta gently like saying her name again. Doesn’t seem to notice his presence at all until he touches his middle and index fingers to her elbow, curves them around just slightly. Girl’s eyes flick up to his in the mirror then, wide, like she’s not sure what the fuck she’s doing or maybe who he is, even.

“Where you goin’ without me, girl?” he slides his fingertips down her forearm until her hand opens reflexively and the blade drops into the sink.

“You wanna go?” her voice is dreamy, like smoke. She leans back against him, head lolling back slightly over the slope of his shoulder.

He goes for all bluster, but it ends up ringing true: “With you? Can’t think of a better way.”

“Some other time.”

Eyes full of promises, that girl. She leaves faint streaks of blood all over the sheets when they go to sleep it off in her bed. He’s never slept better.


End file.
